Unexpected Visit
by innuendosfromfelicity
Summary: [Continues where 2x10 left off] Barry was right all along; Felicity had feelings for Oliver. All it took to realize it was an unexpected visit from Oliver in the middle of the night, an awkward incident, some wine, and a movie.


_"...If you ever decide that Oliver Queen isn't the guy for you... if you decide that you want to go on a date with someone else you should know that that guy... he'll be on time."_

Those were the words Barry Allen had said to her the last time they talked. They were etched into her brain and she quite liked the fact that they were. It was easy to hear his voice when she repeated them to herself and it made her feel like he was still there with her and that he wasn't going anywhere.

Barry had been… _sleeping_ for over five weeks now.

It wasn't fair. Not long after she joined up with Oliver and Diggle she realized that dating would become much harder. She had secrets to keep. The two other people who shared those secrets with her were the only ones in her life that she didn't have to lie to. The idea of keeping such a great lie from a lover was unbearable. But now Barry knew too. She wouldn't have had to lie to him about how she spent her nights, she could've told him about them and he would understand.

It occurred to her then that maybe the reason why she had always found Oliver so… charming was because he was one of the very few people she could be completely honest with. Maybe that had been what Barry saw when he said Felicity liked him. And she did like him. She admired him and trusted him more than anyone else. That trust was what kept her from having nightmares at night, and it was what made her brave enough keep doing what they did.

But they were friends – _partners_. That was how Oliver saw her. And that was how Felicity saw him too. She prided herself on being an intelligent woman. She was well aware of what was and wasn't obtainable to her, and she was smart enough to not want what she couldn't have. Oliver was, without a doubt, unobtainable. He was not only still in love with Laurel Lance, but also adamant on depriving himself from a relationship with someone he truly cared about.

But Barry… Barry wanted to take her out on a date. He made her laugh, and he stood up for her. He was handsome, intelligent, and real. He was obtainable. At least until he'd gotten himself struck by lightening.

_"Maybe he's dreaming about you,_" Oliver had said earlier that night. She smiled at the memory of his close mouthed but tender smile. He'd not only apologized to her but comforted her as well. His voice had been tender, like his eyes. He was able to soothe her and ease her worry so effortlessly. The mere touch of his hand on her shoulder eradicated all of her anxieties, if only for the time being.

It was around four a.m. now. Starling City was finally asleep after Sebastian Blood's event had nearly ended in tragedy. There had been no casualties that night thanks to The Vigilante and his partners. It put her at ease to know that the city could enjoy this quiet night because of something that she'd been a part of. It made her feel good. It made almost getting blown up worth it. It gave her hope.

It also made her realize that one of these days she might not be so lucky. The realization didn't frighten her. She might not be excited about the prospect, but she was willing to die for what she did with Oliver and Diggle.

Felicity picked her phone up from her bedside table. She'd been twisting and turning around in her sheets for hours now, unable to sleep. The conversation she had had with Oliver earlier that night had started her thinking process, and now she had promised to herself that before the sun was up she would have made a decision about Barry: to tell him if she wanted to go on that date or not.

His contact flashed on the small screen and she lay there staring at it for a while. Yes, she thought, yes I wan—

There was knock at her door. It was soft, but it was distinctively a knock. Who in their right mind would be knocking at her door at three a.m.?

Diggle.

Something was happening in Starling City.

She jumped from her bed and strolled to her front door.

"Who is it?" She asked.

No reply came. Alarmed, she grabbed the umbrella that was beside her door and looked through the peephole. The relief she felt at the sight of Oliver's familiar figure on the other side came out through an exhale. It took her a moment to come to her senses and assess the situation. Oliver Queen was at her door, looking down at his feet, from what she could see.

He'd never been to her apartment before, much less in the middle of the night, looking as if he'd just hopped out of bed.

"Oliver?" Her frown seeped into his name. From the peephole she saw his head snap upwards, as if he'd been caught committing a crime.

"Felicity." She was about to open the door when he said, "Don't open the door!"

"Why not?"

Felicity started to worry again. She tried to see if there was someone else with him out in the hallway. But she couldn't spot anyone.

"I… I shouldn't have come here. I'm sorry to bother you this late." He turned and made for the stairs.

Felicity's frown deepened. Oliver Queen didn't just come to your house for no reason. She wasn't going to let him that easily.

She opened the door and jogged after him. The fact that she was barefoot and sporting only a t-shirt and old pair of shorts that made up her pajamas seemed irrelevant to her in that moment.

She caught up with him on the stairs. Maybe it was the unusual hour at which they were seeing each other, but he seemed different than she'd ever seen before. He was wearing the light grey hoodie he always wore at the foundry after he'd been working out or after he'd been patched up. Only this time he actually had a white shirt underneath it.

"Oliver," She nudged him on the shoulder. He took a moment to turn around and face her. Once he did, he looked up at her with his trademark tight-lipped smile that meant he wasn't amused at all but rather cursing himself internally for whatever reason. "Are you alright? Did something happen? I don't care if—"

For the second time that night he silenced her with the touch of his hand, this time on her forearm. "Everything is fine. I just… couldn't sleep and… I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Felicity."

He let go of her arm and ended the discussion there.

When she got back to her apartment she went straight to the window. Oliver's motorcycle was parked in front of her door and he was putting on his helmet. She wondered why he thought that reaching out to her was such a bad idea. Tonight he had been a good friend for her, easing away all of her anxieties and reassuring her that everything would work out. If they were partners, then didn't he understand that that meant she would be there to do the same for him, regardless of time or place?

When Oliver started the engine, Felicity looked down and closed the curtains. She would try to talk to him tomorrow. It was never easy to get Oliver to talk about his feelings but it never hurt to try. Besides, if he came all the way to her apartment, it meant he _was_ reaching out to her, he was just not ready to go all the way.

Felicity was more than willing to nudge him forward.

With Oliver gone, Felicity turned her attention back to the voicemail she wanted to leave on Barry's phone. She dug her cellphone out of her pocket, planning to stare at it until she knew what she was going to say. But she never got to that part. Reaching for her pocket made her realize what she was wearing. Because her apartment was always warm she had her shortest shorts on and her shirt—

There was another knock at her door.

Felicity frowned and smiled at the same time, but she _definitely_ didn't skip to her front door. No, she walked there at a calm and collected pace.

"Who is this?" She asked while seeing Oliver through the peephole.

"It's Oliver."

"Oliver?" She repeated in a taunting voice. "Should I open the door or wait for you to come back a third time?"

She didn't have to look at him to know he would he sighing in response, the way he did when she he was amused by her wit but couldn't find the words to reply in kind.

When she opened the door Oliver was quirking an eyebrow at her and smiling more with his eyes than with his mouth.

Seeing as he was so reticent about coming to her house, she asked, "Would you like to come in, Mr. Queen?"

She considered taking a bow but settled for standing at her door with a friendly smile. He straightened his hoodie and walked inside, taking note of his surroundings. It came as a surprise to her that he didn't look out of place in her modest apartment like he had done all the times she'd pictured him being there. Not that she fantasized about him coming to her house that often, but having seldom seen him outside the foundry, Queen Consolidated or his car, in her head her apartment was somewhere he didn't really fit.

Yet she was wrong. He worked his way around her living room like he'd been there multiple times before, as if all those instances where she'd pictured him there had actually happened.

"I know it's not exactly a castle but then again, my last name isn't Queen."

Oliver watched her for a moment before saying, "I'm glad you don't live in a fireplace or a chimney, then."

They stared at each other in silence while Felicity registered that Oliver had just replied to her bad joke by making a terrible one. And then she broke into a laughing fit.

"That has _got_ to be the worst joke I've ever heard," She managed to say in between laughter.

Oliver was laughing with her, his lips open in a wide smile that showed all his teeth. It was a sight so beautiful and rare that she found herself focusing on it and forgetting why they had ever started laughing in the first place.

Eventually, they fell into silence. It took her a few moments to realize that maybe her scrutinizing eyes on Oliver's expression might make him uncomfortable. Once she did realize this, she sat down on the armchair and gestured for Oliver to sit on the couch next to it.

The silence stretched out. Felicity, for once, couldn't think of anything to say. If she'd known he would be stopping by for a visit she would've planned a few conversation topics beforehand.

"Do you want a glass of wine?" Was what she came up with.

_Not bad, Felicity, not bad_, she thought to herself. Oliver thought so too, judging by the enthusiastic way he said yes. Still, he seemed slightly uncomfortable. Felicity chalked it up to whatever it was that brought him here and went to get a bottle of wine from the kitchen as well as two glasses from the set she reserved for special occasions.

Oliver was perusing the bookshelf next to her window. When she came in he met her halfway and she gave him the bottle to open. He poured the wine into each glass and handed one to her without speaking a word. Oliver looked so comfortable in his surroundings and what he was doing that it was like he wasn't a visitor. One could easily believe that this house and the wine bottle he held in his hands were his.

Felicity's throat went dry.

To alleviate the nerves, Felicity leaned back on her armchair and began educating Oliver on some of the things she'd been up to while she'd been in Central City. She never mentioned Barry but rather just uninteresting things like how big her bathtub at the hotel she stayed was and how one time she thought the maid had stolen her tablet and filed a complaint, only to find the device underneath her bed on the next day.

Throughout her storytelling, Oliver had been looking at her face with intent and a certain discomfort.

"Oliver, why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like there's something on my face and you're too polite to tell me. Oh, God, what is it?" She wiped at her face with her hand.

Oliver chuckled.

"It's not your face. It's your shirt. First of all, you have lovely pajamas but…" he paused, an amused quirk on his lips, "… your shirt is a bit… slightly sheer."

Felicity stood still, holding on to her wineglass, as her whole face started to burn. "Oh. My. God. Oh my God!" She looked down at her chest and her eyes shot back up again once she registered that she was wearing the white shirt her first boyfriend gave her on her fifteenth birthday. And it was sheer. And she was not wearing a bra because who wears a bra to bed? Silly people do. Or maybe they were the smart ones. You never know when your boss/partner/friend will come visit you in the middle of the night.

She crossed her arms around her chest, forgetting about the wineglass in her hand. The liquid spilled to the floor. She set the glass on the coffee table.

"I'll be right back," she said before strolling out of the living room and into her bedroom.

This was terrible. Her cheeks were burning, her heart was racing, and Oliver was in her living room, waiting for her to come back. Maybe he would sneak off while she was changing into her very opaque MIT t-shirt and he'd save her the awkwardness of looking at him again. A part of her wanted him to do that, but another part of her wanted him to stay. Whenever she was with Oliver, she never wanted him to go. Even when they fought and he was being a jerk, she just wanted him to stay and apologize. Maybe that had to do with the fact that the majority of the time, when Oliver was with her and had to leave, he was going off to fight some bad guy. But this time it was different. Barring the danger of a truly awkward moment – those were very dangerous – Oliver wouldn't be putting himself in harm's way when he left. He'd be going to his bed, in his castle.

When she got back to the living room, Oliver was mopping her floor. Once again, he appeared to be at home. He even found the mop, and she kept that tucked away in an obscured corner of her kitchen because it was so goddamn ugly.

"I'm starting to think you should come visit more often."

Oliver looked up at her and winked.

Her flush returned.

"That is if you promise to forget what just happened," she said.

"Forget what?"

"Exactly. Thank you. And thank you for cleaning my floor. I don't think anyone except my mother has ever done that for me."

Oliver smiled.

"You can just leave the mop next to the TV. It's broken anyway."

"Your TV is broken?" He seemed surprised by that.

"I favor my computer over the TV. Plus, I haven't had time to sit and watch television in the living room ever since I joined up with the Arrow. It's not like I did it often before. You know what I miss, though?"

Oliver shook his head.

"I miss going to the cinema. I used to go almost every weekend and now I think I haven't seen a movie in months."

"If it makes you feel better, I haven't seen a movie in six years."

"You're kidding, right?"

Oliver tilted his head.

"I feel like you just admitted to me you haven't gotten laid in six years. Obviously that would never happen. I'm not saying you're a man-whore or anything, I'm just saying, well… you're very handsome and… I'm gonna shut up now." She turned away from him and counted to three under her breath.

"Can we watch one now?" Oliver asked. Felicity turned back towards him. He was standing very close to her, his hands on each side of his body, smiling faintly. His eyes were welcoming. It might have been her imagination playing tricks on her but he seemed more at ease than she'd ever seen him before.

"Yes! We can watch it in my room," She replied, perhaps too quickly. "This is not a secret invitation to have sex, by the way. Not that you'd want to have sex with me. Or me with you! I mean, I'm not saying that it's not a thought that hasn't crossed my mind before but… Please tell me I didn't say that out loud."

"I didn't hear anything." Oliver nodded, smiling.

Felicity guided him toward her bedroom with a racing heart. She could hear it beating in her ears. Oliver made her a tad nervous on normal occasions. Oliver in her apartment in the middle of the night made her really nervous. And when she was nervous, she kept putting her foot in her mouth.

Oliver in her bedroom was a recipe for disaster. Yet now that they were on their way there, she wanted to see him in her bedroom. Would he look just as comfortable amongst her sheets?

She cursed herself for her thoughts before opening the door and letting Oliver in. The shear white shirt she'd been wearing was still on her bed. She quickly put it in a drawer and turned back to Oliver, who was closing the door behind him.

She hoped Oliver couldn't hear the shaky breath she let out when the door clicked shut. It was foolish of her to be this nervous over a closed door when they were alone in her house regardless.

"You couldn't sleep either, could you?" He asked, bringing her out of her daze.

Felicity shook her head.

"Why? Are you still worried about Barry?"

"No, I wasn't worried. What you told me in the foundry tonight gave me hope." Oliver frowned in confusion. Felicity took her phone out of her pocket and looked down at it. "The last time we talked, Barry asked me out on a date."

"That's… great."

"I never gave him an answer."

"Why not?" Oliver asked with genuine curiosity.

"I was thinking about something he said to me. But after our conversation tonight I knew I wanted to say yes and I wanted to tell him so that when he wakes up, be it tomorrow or months from now, he'll know. I might not still want to go on a date with him when he wakes up, if it takes too long, but I want him to know that right now, I do. So I thought I'd leave him a voicemail."

Oliver breathed in and smiled, though his eyes wandered to the ceiling and avoided hers. It wasn't a happy smile, but it was still capable of making her feel warm.

"Did you?" He asked.

"Not yet. I'll do it after we watch the movie," Oliver nodded. "I know you probably like action movies, judging by your extracurricular activities, but can we watch a funny one tonight?"

"Actually my favorite kind of movie is the one that makes you cry. I thought you'd know that, judging by my brooding personality."

Felicity smiled.

"Well, no one is crying tonight," she said, turning on the TV. "You can choose a side of the bed. I usually sleep in the middle so I don't have a preference."

Oliver took off his hoodie and his shoes and put them on top of a chair that was currently covered in Felicity's own discarded clothing. The scene was oddly both arousing and comforting. She found herself imagining that this was a regular occurrence. Against better judgment, she pictured an alternate universe where Oliver lived here with her and he was getting ready to go to sleep next to her and she was lucky enough to have his face be the first thing she saw when she woke up in the morning.

Her heart skipped a beat at the fantasy and her insides burned with longing or desire, she couldn't be sure. Perhaps both.

She shook her head and tried to ignore those feelings. But climbing into bed beside him and feeling his shoulder brushing against hers, the weight of his body in her bed, it only made the thoughts and feelings more prominent. What's worse, she couldn't stop smiling. She tried to ease her lips back to a neutral expression but they had their own will, and they refused to let go of her smile.

They ended up watching Iron Man. Felicity thought that, considering what they did at night, it would be funny. And maybe Oliver could learn some things from another billionaire super hero. But she hadn't paid much attention to the movie, too distracted by the man beside her and the fact that he was there out of his own volition. He'd chosen to come to _her_ when he couldn't sleep. The thought made her feel dizzy.

She favored contemplating his face over watching the movie, so whenever she thought he wouldn't notice, she turned her attention to him. Oliver looked peaceful, now and again chuckling at something that Tony Stark said, and the sound soothed her ears. He may have noticed from the beginning that she was staring at him, but he never gave any indication that he did or that it bothered him, so she kept doing it.

It wasn't until the movie was over that he met her gaze and held it.

"I lied," he said. "I've seen movies since I came back. I just wanted to do it with you."

Felicity realized then that she wanted to kiss him.

"Oliver, why did you come here tonight?" She asked in a low voice.

His eyes wandered on her face for a moment before he replied. "I couldn't sleep. I have nightmares most nights but tonight I just couldn't sleep. I kept turning in my bed, thinking about things I didn't want to think about. I couldn't stand being in that bed so I got up, and I came here." Oliver reached out and held her hand. "I missed you, Felicity."

Her throat closed and she could feel herself starting to sweat. She hoped her hand wasn't sweating. She didn't want Oliver to feel grossed out by her. He missed her.

"I… missed you too, Oliver," she whispered. He was so close to her, she felt she could drown in his eyes. Her hands itched to trace his features and feel the way he was looking at her as if there was nothing else in the world he would rather be seeing.

And then he spoke, in an almost whisper, a tone that Felicity had never heard him speak. "Are you going to send that voicemail to Barry now?"

Hearing Barry's name shocked her out of the moment. She grabbed her phone from the pocket of her shorts and looked at it for the millionth time that night.

"I don't know what to say." She admitted.

"Tell him you're dreaming about him too."

Those words were like poison in her veins.

"But I'm not. I'm lying in bed with you."

"But you would be if you were sleeping."

"I'm not so sure anymore."

Oliver turned on his back and looked up at the ceiling. He seemed to be immersed in his thoughts so Felicity let him. She had her own thoughts to worry about. Just a few hours ago she was so sure she wanted to tell Barry she wanted to go on a date with him and now she couldn't even picture it ever happening. Because now that Oliver was lying down next to her on her bed, now that she'd realized how much she wanted him to stay there, how much she wanted to kiss him, how could Barry ever replace him?

"I just want you to be happy," Oliver said after a while.

Felicity nodded. There was no doubt in her that he did.

"If Barry makes you happy then you should send that voicemail."

"And if he doesn't?"

Oliver turned back on his side to face her. The movement was so intimate that it made her shiver despite how hot she felt in that moment.

Oliver didn't reply in words. He looked at her, really looked at her, searching and hopeful. Felicity did the same, and she let him see what exactly she meant by her words. Slowly, he got closer, until his eyes were the only thing she could see and his breath was warm against her skin, and his nose scraped against hers. Each time his breath faltered, her entire body shivered, because she knew that she was what caused that tremble in his breath, that maybe if she reached out and put a hand on his chest she'd feel his heart racing too.

She was making Oliver Queen, Starling City's relentless Vigilante, nervous.

She leaned closer and her lips brushed against his. It was the lightest of touches but it made her feel as if she was about to burst. It sent shocks through her whole body, erased thought from her mind. She leaned forward again, propelled by her absolute need to feel more of him, but Oliver leaned back in turn. He didn't break the contact, though. He simply maintained them in that light touch, breathing against each other, a moment that was neither an expression of refusal nor a commitment. It was a bridge that he was still contemplating whether to cross or not.

Felicity reached out with a hand and settled it on his neck. Oliver let out a heavy breath at her touch and closed his eyes.

"Felicity…" Her name slipped through his lips.

"I know. I know you think it's better to not be with someone you care about, but I think you deserve better. The Arrow deserves to be happy too," Oliver enveloped the hand she had on his neck with his. "And so do I. And I can't be happy with Barry."

Oliver remained silent.

"Oliver," Felicity said. "Please let me kiss you."

He did. She leaned in slowly, so as to not scare him away, felt the shock of his lips against hers again and leaned even closer, letting go and drowning in all that Oliver gave of himself to her in that moment.

Felicity eventually pulled away, smiling. "Will you let me kiss you tomorrow?" She asked.

Oliver hesitated. "I don't want to ruin us. Whenever I do this, I always ruin it."

"You were never afraid to try before."

"That's because before it wasn't with someone like you. You're my _partner_, you know me better than… anyone."

"Except maybe Diggle."

Oliver let out a chuckle.

"Except maybe Diggle," he repeated. "What I mean is that you're different."

Felicity looked deep into his eyes and said, "Exactly."


End file.
